


I Thought The Sun Rose In Your Eyes

by ghettoassenglishman



Category: Shameless (US)
Genre: Because I seriously Can't get over Cameron playing, Domestic Fluff, Fluff, Future Fic, Guitars, I'm still in denial ok, Ian plays Guitar, M/M, Morning Kisses, Season Finale didn't happen, Singing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-04-12
Updated: 2015-04-12
Packaged: 2018-03-22 12:40:03
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,572
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3729274
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ghettoassenglishman/pseuds/ghettoassenglishman
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"The soft strumming of guitar chords drifted through the bedroom door, Mickey swore he could hear singing too – either that, or his old age was suddenly catching up to him."</p><p> </p><p>Ian plays guitar and Mickey watches in pure awe - because his heart is like woah I love that idiot</p>
            </blockquote>





	I Thought The Sun Rose In Your Eyes

**Author's Note:**

> Song Ian sings : First Time Ever I Saw Your Face - Johnny Cash
> 
> After seeing that stream I have been dreaming of Ian playing guitar, because seriously, its the hottest fucking thing I've seen in my life???? So Yeah, needed to do this. 
> 
> Prompt me if you like or yanno if you want to rant : im-an-angel-y0u-tumblr.com

The soft strumming of guitar chords drifted through the bedroom door, Mickey swore he could hear singing too – either that, or his old age was suddenly catching up to him. He lay among a screwed up pile of blankets, a vacant spot beside him, burying his face further into the pillow, due to habit, he pats the empty spot beside him that wasn't so warm any more. With his eyes still closed, he listened to the different notes echoing in, he wasn't entirely sure when someone even had an acoustic guitar in the house- the only one they owned was the electric, which Mickey most likely scarred Debbie for life hiding his junk with it. The sound almost whisked him back to sleep, but Mickey forced himself to stay awake, one: he wanted to know who the hell was playing it. Two: So he could continue listening.

 

After a while, he feels himself finally cracking the dawn and rising from his and Ian's bed. Mickey makes his way to the bathroom, most likely to see what a mess he was in the morning – according to Ian, a beautiful mess – when he heard giggling coming from the room down the hall. Svetlana's room. It was followed by more strumming, but Mickey wasn't sure what would be behind that door. Svetlana and Nika were into a lot of things, a _lot_ of things – and maybe a guitar was a contribution to it. But the other laugh sounds too familiar, his familiar, and he instantly knows who's behind that door. 

 

Quietly, he makes his way over to the room, cracking the door open ever-so-slightly, his eyes are stuck on the image before him; Ian's crossed legged on top of Svetlana's king-size, a guitar in his hands against his bare chest and low, hung sweats. Svetlana is opposite him, also crossed legged but her nakedness was covered with that tatty dressing gown – that was surprisingly still standing after all the baby spew and accidental fag ash burns – In the gap of her legs, sat Yevgeny, his little hands clapping away towards Ian. Mickey swears his heart screams out at this point, he can feel it, he stays still and watches with awe as Svetlana starts to insult Ian, in the nicest way. 

 

“Orange boy stupid.” She laughs, dodging Ian's sleepy hit that came her way. She lifts Yevgeny's arm pretends to point to the redhead. “Yevgeny _say_ Orange boy is stupid.” The baby shakes his head, giggling in all might, causing Ian to chuckle out and lean forward to stroke underneath Yevgeny's chin. 

 

“See, he loves me.” Ian smirks, resting back down and shifting the guitar further into his lap. Mickey watches as the redhead watches with pure delight against his face, his eyes glued to the mother and son enlightened before him. As if Ian was proud – well, Mickey guessed he was too, they had got this far and fuck, it took a hell of a time to get there.

 

Svetlana slaps his arm playfully, muttering something soft in Russian. “Get on with song, Music man. Or I'll shove guitar up your ass.” Yevgeny coos in her arms, clapping of some-sort towards Ian who tapped against the side of the guitar. “What song?” Ian asks, squinting his eyes. “And you know by now 'Lana, I  _give_ it up the ass, so do it to Mick or something.” They both laugh and Mickey has the instant urge to run in and give them both a huge middle finger to look at.

 

“You sang before, Yevvy likes that one. Sing that one.” The Russian encourages, a rare smile on her face – that Mickey realised only usually came out when she was with Yevgeny, or if Ian was up and about with stability. Ian nods, trying to gather himself around the instrument, he taps his fingers a couple of times before he fully clears his throat. 

 

Ian hadn't even started yet and Mickey felt his heart in his mouth. The redhead grinned towards the two opposite to him and started the familiar Johnny Cash tune. Mickey's smile nearly split against his face – Ian was a sucker for that type of music and he had already got the solid Russian and the spewing baby into his weird fetish obsession. 

 

“... _The first time I saw your face...I thought the son rose in your eyes...-”_ Mickey felt himself holding his breath, Ian's voice was like some fucking angel and it did something to him that he still couldn't understand yet. It wasn't perfect – but the way Ian's voice croaked and the words led off to a soft gasp escaping his lips, it _was_ fucking perfect. 

 

Then Mickey swears Ian's singing to him, even if he wasn't singing to him – his heart still did that thumpy lets-fly-out-of-your-chest thing. The strumming continues and Ian's voice the room all over again, Svetlana and Yevgeny seem to be in the same trance Mickey was in. “... _and the moon and stars were the gifts you gave...-_

 

Mickey nearly coughs at the hitch in his throat, his eyes glued to the image of Ian's muscles tensing at each chord, the way the redhead licked his lips after each line, the way his fingers delicately played against the strings. Svetlana starts to clap Yevgeny's hands, her smile so bright he was sure he was blinded with shock.

 

“... _To the dark and the endless sky, my love...-”_ Heart goes thump.

 

“ _...and the first time ever I kissed your mouth...”_ Again.

 

“ _...I felt the Earth move through my hands.”_ Oh, look – was that his heart in his hand? Was it telling him that he really fucking adored this Redhead playing behind the door?

 

Ian draws out the line, his smile nearly breaking the note as he closed his eyes to hit higher. Mickey feels his own hands shake at the severity and certainty of the words – It felt like Ian was saying those things, not just singing them, not just strumming those notes off for the fun of it. Before he can hear anything else, he runs back their room – his feet creaking against the floorboards and he winces as the music suddenly stopped and a harsh giggle echoes down the hall.

 

Mickey covers himself up underneath the sprawled blankets, trying to catch his breath so it didn't sound too much like he had been peeping on the three. Fluttering his eyes open, accordingly to his plan, he gives the smug redhead a weak, lazy smile as he pretended to wake up. Ian crosses his arms over and tilts his head. “You just wake up?”

 

“Er, yeah.” Mickey spurts, reaching over to the side table to grab a cigarette. Ian walks to the end of the bed, he seductively crawls through Mickey's legs and rests himself against his chest. “ _Hmm.”_ Ian lets out, eyes narrowing towards his boyfriend. Nodding his head, Mickey let the smoke dangle between his lips instead of lighting, mainly for the fact the lighter was in his jeans pocket – which were on the floor, which meant Ian getting off him and that wasn't an option.

 

Ian's looking at him with a smirk, the only thing telling Mickey that he _knew._ Gallagher fucking knew he had been peeping on them and he _knew_ that Mickey had tried to play it off cool, like he did everytime. Mickey might as well give in, Ian would tease his ass either way. “Not much of a singer, are you?” Mickey smirks, chucking his unlit cigarette back onto the side-table.

 

The redhead smacks his chest, pouting like a five-year old. “Fuck you, I'm a _great_ singer.”

 

“If you say so Elton John.” Mickey teases, pinching the skin at the bottom of Ian's back – he takes the squirming boy any day of the week. Or his life, really.

 

Ian frowns as he leans down and bites against the soft skin of Mickey's chest. The older boy yelps in a satisfactory moan, that's lets face it – Ian was very fucking proud of the fact he could make Mickey make them sort of noises. “I'm not a Johnny Cash but I can do a lot of  _other_ things.” 

 

“Humour me.” Mickey waves his hands in a lets-have-it motion. The challenge was one that Ian accepted, and wanted to take on for that factor. He always loved teasing Mickey, even if it meant looking like a total dick. 

 

Ian taps his chin in thought, tutting his lips through his broken-up chuckles. “Like...” His eyes lock with Mickey's, and for a second he nearly forgot what he was trying to do. “I'm really good at putting up flat packs. Did I ever tell you that my beef stew is literally the  _shit,-”_ Mickey shakes his head in an answer, shy smile against his face. “Also I'm very skilled at doing a roly poly, without my back cracking in at-least five different places...-” 

 

Mickey lets his teeth sink into his bottom lip, this idiot,  _his_ idiot, who he happened to fall in love with, was the most adorable fucker he knew. Hands running up the younger boys neck, Mickey threads his fingers through the ginger strands above it. “Get up here, asshole.” 

 

Smugly, because Ian was always smug about making Mickey soft and literally unravel beneath him, Ian pushed himself up Mickey's body and smiled into the kiss – Notes from the busker guitar flowing through the room while a high-pitched baby giggle echoed through the house. 

**Author's Note:**

> Working on a prompt from my ask box at the mo - so send me more for after it:)


End file.
